


Say It

by insufferableknowitall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I Love You, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Shell Cottage (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 07:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21472162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insufferableknowitall/pseuds/insufferableknowitall
Summary: Deathly Hallows missing moments at Shell Cottage. Ron/Hermione centric, VERY fluffy, quite angsty. Mostly canon compliant. Lotsa feels. You've been warned!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 13
Kudos: 123





	1. Arriving at Shell Cottage

They arrived in a frenzy of shouts and screams, blood dripping hands and sand-covered shoes. Bill had nearly stopped his brother, demanding that he prove himself, but when he saw the state Hermione was in and the anxiety on his brother’s face, he knew it wasn’t an imposter. 

The first few hours were the worst. Hermione lay unconscious while Fleur tended to her, Ron all the while by her side. “You are in ze way,” Fleur clucked at him, but he refused to let go of Hermione’s hand. Once Hermione’s conditioned had stabilized, the news of Dobby’s fate traveled throughout the house. Ron only agreed to leave Hermione alone in Fleur’s care when he saw Harry through the window, digging a small, elf-sized grave. 

“She ‘ill be okay,” Fleur reassured him, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he glanced back at Hermione, who had begun to stir. “Go. ‘Elp your friend.”

Ron stood and felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, blinked and saw Hermione’s small frame laying before him, bloodied and bruised. He could still hear her screams in the back of his mind, and as he walked outside the room, he found himself leaning against the wall, tears threatening to escape. Just hours ago, he thought he’d cried all the tears he could, his face soaking wet as he screamed from the dungeon in Malfoy Manor. But somehow, they had survived. The weight of it was crushing. 

He closed his eyes tightly, willing himself to calm down. He wanted to go help Harry. Then, he could come back and see Hermione, check that she was okay. Fleur was a competent Healer. And Harry shouldn’t have to dig the grave by himself…

Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly. There before him stood Dean Thomas, his classmate since the age of eleven, who had grown nearly as tall as Ron, who’s hair was now long and curly after months on the run. “Hey,” he said, “All right, mate?”

Ron nodded and sniffed. A year ago, he might have felt embarrassed that Dean Thomas was seeing him cry. But after the day he’d had, he no longer cared about anything, other than Hermione’s safety. 

“She okay?” asked Dean, wide-eyed as he motioned towards the closed bedroom door, which Hermione and Fleur were behind. 

Ron nodded, unable to get out any words. 

Dean stared at him for a moment, as if he was about to say something but wasn’t sure how, and then sighed. “Imagine if McGonagall could see us now.”

Ron laughed, a somewhat watery, garbled noise escaping his mouth. “Shite, I reckon she’d take away house points.”

“Prob’ly for your bloody language, mate.”

Ron shook his head and grinned. He could hear Fleur bustling around in the room behind them, humming softly to herself as she cleaned up potions and remedies. 

Dean cleared his throat, squeezed Ron’s arm one more time, and then spoke up. “I saw...Harry outside. Thought maybe you and I could go help him, he’d digging a grave…”

Ron nodded. “That’s where I was heading.”

“Brilliant.”

Ron hesitated before stepping away, images of Hermione’s cuts and blood still on his mind. He glanced down at his own hands - they were covered in her blood, and probably some of his own, with all the cuts he got from running into the path of the falling chandelier. 

“You can stay here, if you want,” Dean said, noticing Ron’s hesitation. 

Ron shook his head. “Fleur’s taking care of her. And she’d, well...she’d probably want me to help Harry, I reckon…”

Dean grinned. “Even from her sickbed she’s bossing you around.”

“Yeah, well…”

“She’ll be okay,” he reassured, throwing an arm around Ron as they began to descend the stairs, “She’s got you, mate. She’ll be okay.”

Ron nodded and together, they made their way outside into the blistering beach air, and joined Harry with shovels in their hands.


	2. A Brotherly Heart-to-Heart

It was Bill who finally interrupted their digging. Harry, Ron, and Dean had dug a grave so deep it could have fit at least five Dobbies. The digging was somewhat therapeutic for them, something to do in silence in the company of one another. Three boys that had once been scrawny eleven year olds together, now digging a grave for an elf.

“Hermione’s awake,” Bill said, looking directly at Ron. Before Bill even finished the two words, Ron had climbed out of the hole and dropped the shovel. Harry smirked slightly, glad to hear that Hermione was okay, and nodded as Ron glanced back at him. “Go on,” he said, “I’ll check in on her later.”

Dean and Harry exchanged knowing grins while Ron hurried along behind his older brother. “Fleur asked me to get you,” Bill said as they climbed the steps to the small cottage, “Said Hermione asked for you, first thing.” Bill eyed his brother and smiled at the way the blush crept up his face, despite everything they had clearly been through during the day.

Bill wanted to ask his brother what had happened - he’d tried already, multiple times, though had been shooed out of the room by Fleur as she tended to Hermione. Ron had downright refused to give any information unless necessary - only telling Fleur that Hermione had been hit by the cruciatus curse, and cut by a knife. It worried Bill - his youngest brother, risking his life in ways he did not fully comprehend. It made him feel sick, as he watched Ron bound up the stairs, the back of his neck still red from the blush that had overcome his face at the mention of Hermione’s request for him. It was a stark reminder that Ron was just a kid, barely eighteen.

“Ron,” Bill spoke. Ron turned around, halfway up the stairs, and stared at his brother anxiously. “Ron, are you sure you can’t tell me what happened?”

“I’m sure,” Ron said fiercely.

“You’re putting yourselves in danger,” he continued, “I mean, look at Hermione, if you three would just tell us what’s going on, maybe we could help, we could prevent this…”

Bill thought he saw red flash over Ron’s eyes. “You think I want to keep putting her life at risk?” he asked, his voice frighteningly low and quiet, a stark contrast to the look on his face. “Bill, if I could, I’d tell you all in a heartbeat. If it meant she’d be...she’d be safer, I’d tell you. But I can’t.”

Bill wondered if, in his time away, Ron had perhaps aged the most of all his siblings. The boy he had once watched toddle around the house spoke with such bravery, such assurance, that Bill himself felt young in comparison.

“You really care about her.” Bill said, feeling his brother’s pain and worry in the pit of his stomach.

“I love her,” Ron admitted. He hadn’t said it aloud to anyone, not even Harry - though Harry, of course, had known for some time, he was sure of it. But after everything that had happened, it came so easily, so much clearer than anything else in his life.

Bill raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Go on then,” he nodded up the stairs. “If you can’t tell me, you can’t tell me. Go be with her.”

Ron stared at his brother, grateful that he stopped asking questions about the mission, and then walked down a few steps to embrace Bill. Bill had always been good to Ron, had always seemed to believe in him more than any of his other siblings.

“Thanks,” Ron said.

“For what?”

“For everything.”

Bill smiled at his brother, and then watched him bound up the rest of the stairs towards the room that Hermione lay in.


	3. The One Where Ron Says It

“Hermione.” At the sight of him, she nearly broke down into tears. Quietly, Fleur slipped out of the room, patting her brother-in-law on the back before. Ron rushed to Hermione’s bedside, kneeling in front of her and grabbing her hand in his. 

“You’re okay,” he said, and she began to cry harder - gently, he pulled her towards his chest, wrapping his arms around her, careful not to hit any of her cuts or bruises. He was crying, too, just barely. “You’re all right, I’ve got you.”

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. He could have stayed that way forever - he didn’t care that his stomach grumbled, that the world below them continued on, that soon they’d be laying Dobby’s body into the grave and soon, they’d have to continue the search for Horcruxes. In that moment, all that mattered was Hermione being okay. 

Eventually, her sobs slowed, her body stopped shaking and her breathing grew steady. She released him from her grip, grimacing slightly at the tear-soaked spot she’d left on his jumper. 

“It’s okay,” he said to her, “Already covered in blood and dirt.”

“You should clean off.”

“That’s kind of on the bottom of my list right now, but thanks.”

She giggled softly and leaned into him again. Her hands shook from the aftershocks of the curse, and her body felt like jelly. She groaned as she readjusted, to which Ron asked: “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

“I’m fine, Ron, really - ”

“I could get you food, or water, or -” 

“No, no, just...just stay here, please.” She clung to his shirt and pulled him towards her, scooting over to make room on the bed for him to sit beside her. 

“All right.”

She glanced up at him, an expression on her face that he wasn’t sure he’d seen before, or at least, never noticed. She was staring at him as if she was reading a book - thoughtful eyes, furrowed eyebrows, pursed lips. 

“What?”

“I heard you, you know,” she said. She didn’t break eye contact, as she normally did whenever she attempted to have some kind of serious conversation with Ron Weasley. “I heard you. When she was...I heard you calling my name.”

Ron turned red and swallowed. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “It helped.” Then, she nuzzled into his shoulder and he smiled against her. He hadn’t just called her name - he’d screamed it, hysterically, to the point that Harry had to nearly punch him in the face to get him to shut up. He held her tightly, afraid to let go. It had been so bad, and it had almost been worse - if it wasn’t for Dobby, bless him, Bellatrix might have...no. He couldn’t let himself think of it. He couldn’t bare to let the thought of losing her cross his mind, though admittedly, he wished that Hermione could stay here for the rest of the war, safe at Shell Cottage while he and Harry finished the mission. 

Though he knew Hermione would never allow it. And besides, they needed her - he doubted him and Harry could manage to find the Horcruxes without her help. 

So, if he couldn’t keep her safe, he had to tell her. 

“Hermione?”

“Hmm?”

“I...I know you told me not to say it, but...can I?”

Just a week before, in the tent, he’d tried to muster up the courage to say the three words - but she’d cut him off, telling him to stop talking like they were going to die, to continue living like they had the rest of their lives to figure everything out. 

But, the reality was that they didn’t. They weren’t sure of it. And he’d almost lost her, and he didn’t get to say it. 

Hermione didn’t reply. Instead, she raised her head and stared at him, watery, brown eyes large and questioning. He swallowed hard, and then spoke. “I love you,” he said, so quietly it was just for her to hear, “I...I’m in love with you, reckon I have been for a while, and you...today...I just...fuck, Hermione, I just can’t let that kind of thing happen again without telling you. You don’t have to say it back, I really don’t expect - ”

But, she cut him off before he had a chance to finish the thought. Without a moment’s notice, she pressed her lips against his, gripping his face so tightly it felt as though his head might explode. He kissed her back, of course, with as much enthusiasm, careful with his hands as to not touch any of her cuts or bruises. Though she looked tired and weak from the curse, she climbed on top of him to straddle him as he sat against the headboard, a bolt of energy he could never have expected. Gently, he placed his hands on her back and pulled her close, afraid that if he ever let go he would wake up and it would all be a dream. 

Yet, it wasn’t a dream. She pulled back from him, red in the face but determined to look him in the eyes. “I love you too, Ron Weasley,” she said back, so fiercely he couldn’t help but lean in and kiss her again, this time with even more vigor than before, running his hands along the thin fabric of Fleur’s dressing gown she had borrowed. As she deepened the kiss, he was certain he would surely pass out. 

Finally, they broke apart, both breathless and red-faced. Ron looked as though he had been hit in the head with a bludger, and she had a somewhat satisfied smirk on her face. They stared at one another for a moment, panting, and then broke out into giggles. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he said, grinning widely. 

“Language,” she chided with a smile. 

“Why the hell did we wait so long to do that?”

She blushed and shook her head, climbing off of him and leaning back against the headboard. “Well, there is a war going on.”

“Shite timing.”

She rolled her eyes but still smiled, and then turned to him, seriously. “We can’t do that again.”

“Wha - “

“Not until after. Or at least, not while Harry’s around.”

“The git…”

“I’m serious. We can’t be distracted.”

“Too late.”

She sighed and turned to look at him, noticing his lopsided grin and the way his hair was messy and ruffled, thanks to her. “Well,” she said, smoothing her own hair out, “We’ll just have to...not be distracted.”

He wrapped an arm around her and laughed. “Uh huh. And then, when this all ends, we can...be distracted all we want?”

She turned a dark shade a scarlett, which only made him laugh more as he pulled her closer, her face pressed into his shirt. 

“Something worth fighting for, huh?” he said. 

Against him, she nodded. 

“But promise me,” he said, suddenly very serious, “That won’t be our last kiss.”

She glanced up at him and he continued. “I mean, you know, if it’s looking like we’re about to, you know...”

“Die?”

“Well, yeah -”

“Ron! Don’t say that!”

“Just, feel free to throw yourself at me.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

He shrugged and pulled her closer, pressing his lips against hers for what he intended to be a brief kiss, yet was pleasantly surprised when she kissed him deeper, this time much slower than before. 

“I promise,” she said softly when they broke apart, breathing deep once more. “Now, no more distractions?”

“No more distractions.”

And, as if by perfect timing, a knock sounded on the door just then. Hermione, as quickly as she could with her sore limbs, scooted herself off of Ron and tried her best not to look like she’d just been passionately snogging the love of her life. Ron, who still looked slightly dumb-struck, sat up a little straighter but made no effort to move away from Hermione. 

It was Luna Lovegood, slowly opening the door with a creek, the solemn expression on her face turning to a grin when she saw the pair of them. 

“Oh, hello Hermione,” she said in her lofty, airy voice, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks, Luna.”

“I’m very sorry to interrupt your snogging - ”

Both Ron and Hermione blanched, protesting: “We weren’t - “ and “How did you - ?”

Luna grinned and simply said. “Your cheeks are both quite red.”

Then, the solemn expression returned once more, as she continued. “Harry wants us all to come outside. He’d like to say a few words about Dobby. He sent me to come get you two, don’t worry, I won’t tell him.” She smiled softly and then motioned for them to follow, flitting out of the room. 

Hermione and Ron both grimaced at one another, not sure whether to laugh or cry - the day had been tumultuous, and burying the brave, little elf made both of their hearts hurt. Together, they stood. Hermione, with much more effort, wobbling on her legs and leaning into Ron for support. 

“You okay?” he asked her as he helped her towards the stairs. 

She nodded. “I’m okay.”

Together, they walked down to the small funeral for Dobby. While their hearts were heavy, they were also full of something they’d nearly run out of - hope, for the future. For one day, when they would be able to, as Ron put it, be distracted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHH okay this one made me all giddy inside to write. Thanks for reading. :)


End file.
